Rebecca’s side: It was late 2022, not long after I moved from Brooklyn to the Hudson Valley. An old friend from my Long Island days invited me to a costume party, so I decided to go. The theme was to wear something from your closet you never get the chance to wear. Naturally, I showed up in a Hanbok I had bought in Korea, paired with heels. As soon as I walked in, I realized I only knew the host. Everyone else was a stranger, and I found myself standing on the sidelines. That’s when I noticed someone else doing the same thing, looking a little out of place, but also a little cute. That was Nathan. I decided to talk to him, and right away I realized he wasn’t like the other people I’d met. He didn’t ask the typical small-talk questions; he actually made me think. Later that night, he asked if I wanted to come outside and look at a fallen tree in the snow with him and a friend. Even though I was in heels and a gown, I went. The tree was nothing special, but Nathan made it feel like it was. By the end of the night, he had my Instagram, and soon we were messaging. I liked him, but I wasn’t ready for a relationship. Neither was he. So we agreed to just be friends. (Spoiler: we were terrible at that.) For two years, we kept reaching out every so often. Something always pulled us back together. Then, in the summer of 2024, Instagram replies turned into voice memos, which turned into phone calls. During one of those calls, I finally asked: “Nathan, are you wasting my time?” Without missing a beat, he said: “No. I really want to date you.” That’s when everything shifted. Three months in, we went on a walk across the Hudson. My heart kept skipping a beat, I felt I had finally found my person. At the end of our walk, as I looked at him, I whispered, terrified: “I love you.” Immediately, he responded: “I love you too.” Nathan’s side: I had just moved to New York during the pandemic and was still adjusting. Some friends in my congregation invited me to a party, so I went. Like Rebecca, I walked into a room full of people I didn’t know and immediately felt out of place. Then I noticed her. She looked incredible in her gown, and she had the same slightly awkward “what do I do here?” energy I did. We started talking, and it wasn’t long before I realized how easy she was to connect with. We bounced between things we had in common and things we didn’t, which made it all the more interesting. I wasn’t sure if she was interested, but I took a chance and invited her to come see a tree that had fallen down in the yard. To my surprise, she agreed, even in her heels. That’s when I thought: there might be something here. After that night, we started exchanging messages. I felt a connection right away, but we both admitted we weren’t ready to date. So we tried to stay “just friends.” Truthfully, I could never quite stay away. Over the next two years, I’d find myself reaching out, and she’d do the same. It was always there. In 2024, everything finally lined up. When Rebecca asked me if I was wasting her time, I knew I couldn’t hesitate anymore. I told her the truth: I wanted to date her. We made it official on August 16, 2024. Those first dates were filled with laughter, karaoke, board games, movies, and trying new foods. She saw my silly side; I saw her witty, fun, and loving side. By November, as we walked the Walkway Over the Hudson, Rebecca told me she loved me. Without hesitation, I said it right back. From that point forward, I knew she was the one. After months of saving and planning, I proposed on July 5, 2025, with backup plans to the backup plans to make sure nothing got in the way. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. Now, here we are: two people who started out as the awkward ones at the party, who tried to just be friends, who kept finding their way back to each other. And now we can’t wait to celebrate the start of forever with all of you.